This is an old picture. My granddaughter Peyton was barely one and so Colton would have been around the age of five. This is the last picture I have of my dad in his minister's robe. He was "pushing 80 and feeling it." That baptism was the last ministerial duty for him.

The baptism was performed privately at a country church where Dad had served as a "retired pastor"--the church couldn't afford a full-time one, so Dad gladly accepted the position and allowed God to use him to heal a breach in that church. He only left when he and mom sold their home and moved to a retirement village several hours away. The church was neutral territory for my son's divorced parents and the pastor graciously allowed my father to use that church for his last ceremony. Pop was alone and had become fragile without my mother at his side (leukemia was mom's passage out of here).

He was unsteady up there and later was worn out. So the baptism of my son's first birth child, his wife, and his stepson was the sunset of my father's minister role (officially--he never stopped ministering even on the day he was saying goodbye to us all).

Today I sat in one of "Dad's churches" and gazed at the pulpit he helped design--it's huge and made of beautiful wood. Dad was 6ft. 3in.,(he had "shrunk" by the time these pictures were taken) so the pulpit was made to fit a big man, but it has a pull-out stand for shorter folks. The alter and choir loft with the majestic organ pipes are grandiose and require a pulpit that does them justice, not the puny one that crouched there when Dad arrived as the new minister.

I looked upward at more beautiful architecture and felt "good." I've written before of my tussles with Sundays and church. Today is another day that the good side won and I even got there in time to greet people--major step for me! Afterwards, I ventured downstairs for coffee and cookies--another huge step. I searched and found a safe haven--old friends--I went to high school with the couple and her dad (also sitting there)was a close friend of my dad's. We ended up swapping stories of this awesome man---Big Roy--my much loved and much missed pop, remembered by so many for his way of calmly, lovingly leading his church, his friends, and his family. And---I smiled. I like to think he did too. Of course mom probably was saying, "Now Roy, I told you she'd find her way back eventually!"

LIGHT THE NIGHT

My chronic illness blog

About Me

I am a retired teacher who has found a different sort of freedom in my sixties. I have my high school sweetheart as my 2nd husband, two grown children, and six grandchildren. They are all wonderful and I enjoy all of them.
I take photographs for fun particularly of barns and make cards out of them. I scrapbook and garden. I'm also a voracious reader.